


(not so) Unrequited

by Leandra



Series: Leandra does Kinkalot 2020 [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, listening in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25809628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leandra/pseuds/Leandra
Summary: Merlin will give his life to Arthur, he will protect him, he will guide him, he will love him with all the desperation and tenderness of his wounded heart, but he will never reap the benefit of his devotion. His love will always be solitary and unreturned, a precious, hurtful thing he keeps close to his heart, a secret that should never be revealed.*-*Written for the Kinkalot 2020 Bingo challenge prompt: Unrequited.I said I wouldn't do it. Then I gave it a spin. The ship can't be denied.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon
Series: Leandra does Kinkalot 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1869424
Comments: 36
Kudos: 127
Collections: Kinkalot 2020





	(not so) Unrequited

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to highfunctioning-clotpole for the beta and for handholding! <3

Once more, the first hiding place Merlin could think of had been underneath Arthur’s bed. It certainly isn’t the first time he dove under it the moment Arthur entered his chambers and Merlin had been at risk at being found sneaking around or misappropriating the King’s possession and it probably wouldn’t be the last time, either. 

Merlin knows the underside of Arthur’s bed quite well by now, because it is by far the best hiding place in Arthur’s chambers. (He tried the cupboard, it’s stuffy and too small.) He has spent quite some time lying on the wooden floor planks, staring up at the underside of Arthur’s mattress, listening to Arthur moving around his chambers, impatiently waiting for him to leave again. Gladly, Arthur usually doesn’t take long, mostly entering his chambers during the day to fetch a fresh shirt or look for a letter, but today … today is different. 

Merlin blinks when the bed above him suddenly squeaks in protest, dust fluttering down on him from slats and mattress, collecting as a plume around him and rising up his nose. Quickly, he raises his hand to his face, just so able to suppress the mighty sneeze that threatens.

Above him, Arthur exhales a lengthy sigh. He sounds tired and frustrated and Merlin can’t help but feel a bit vindictive about it. Earlier today, Arthur had been especially difficult and condescending, complaining about everything Merlin did or didn’t do, taking offence at the way he fulfilled his duties and practically exorciating Merlin to the point where he was so frustrated, he tossed dirty laundry at Arthur’s head. 

Arthur shifts on the bed, causing more dust to fall from the slats. Merlin rolls his eyes, thinking that Arthur is definitely choosing the worst time to start an afternoon nap. Maybe, if Arthur really did fall asleep, he could sneak out undetected though. 

Another sigh from above, the rustling of clothes, and wide-eyed, Merlin realises one thing: Arthur isn’t going to fall asleep. He isn’t going to fall asleep, at least not now, and he’s removing his clothing and… that… that was a moan. A moan. Merlin knows Arthur’s moans (even if they are usually his moans of pain) and the sound Arthur just made was most definitely a moan. Of pleasure. 

Merlin bites his lip, blinking up at the mattress above, wondering what he did wrong to deserve this, of all things. His day had been spectacularly bad already and now he has to listen to Arthur, the King of Camelot, subject of his rather vivid wet dreams and recipient of his unrequited love, have one out above him. 

Arthur makes a soft, breathy sound and starts to move, the mattress shifting, and Merlin is struck with the image of Arthur lying right above him, breeches undone and sword hand wrapped around his cock. He squeezes his eyes shut and suppresses a whimper, feeling himself twitch in his trousers, despite the danger he’s in if Arthur would find him here. He supposes it could be worse: Arthur could be up there together with Gwen for a late-afternoon marital tumble and Merlin would be forced to listen to their love making. The thought sobers him briefly, reminding him firmly and once again, that the object of his affection is married to his friend. His female friend. 

When Arthur married Gwen and made her his queen, Merlin desperately tried to convince himself that he didn’t begrudge them their happiness. Here was the man he loved and his most trusted friend and they both deserved each other. They are perfect for each other. Gwen could be for Arthur what Merlin could never be: The person to rule beside him, the partner to share his throne and bed with, the woman to secure his lineage and bear children to the king. Merlin and his messy, confused and desperate feelings were no match for the solemn, somber and earnest way in which Gwen loved Arthur. 

For months after Arthur had married Gwen, Arthur hadn’t been in his chambers in the morning when Merlin arrived to start his chores, but recently, Merlin had found Arthur in his own bed more often than not, rather than in the Queen’s chambers.

On the bed, Arthur shifts and groans, a sound so full of longing, that Merlin almost sighs in sympathy. He doesn’t understand why Arthur is here, alone, when he could seek out his wife, but the selfish little part of Merlin, the one who also likes to punish itself with impossible thoughts of a world where Arthur is all Merlin’s is grateful for this moment. This moment, where he can pretend that Arthur is his.

Pressing his teeth into his bottom lip, Merlin reaches shakily for his own trousers and cups himself through the fabric, feeling his erection jump into his touch. He squeezes his eyes shut and goes back to imagining Arthur up on the bed, only in Merlin’s mind, he’s there with him, on the bedspread, kneeling between his thighs. 

“Shit,” Arthur mutters from above, then groans, “your mouth… that sassy, irritating, beautiful, plump mouth…” 

Merlin’s breath hitches and he thrusts his hands inside his trousers, needing to touch himself, because Arthur’s voice is sinful and rough. He wishes he could be the one to make Arthur sound like this, say things like this. 

“Fuck, yes… that’s…” Arthur mumbles incoherently. A soft, slick sound accompanies the movement of his elbow jerkingly hitting the mattress and Merlin whimpers quietly at the thought of Arthur’s beautiful, deft fingers sliding over his cock, teasing himself, spreading his precome down his length. He wishes he could sneak a glance, see for himself if Arthur looks anything like in his fantasies, beautiful and golden. He wonders if Arthur would reach into his hair if Merlin sucked his cock, if he would press up with his hips demandingly, taking, like he does so with everything in his life. 

Merlin wants that, feels his mouth go wet with the mere thought of pleasuring Arthur like this. In his dirtiest daydreams, Arthur finally has enough from Merlin’s insolence, shoving him up against a wall and shutting him up with his tongue. Arthur’s strong, so strong he could lift Merlin up, take him right there, fuck him until Merlin comes messily all over them both. 

Pressing his free hand over his mouth to keep him from making noise, Merlin thrusts up into his hand, listening to Arthur’s moans rise in volume above him, becoming more and more desperate. He can almost imagine Arthur is indeed fucking him and these are his moans as he thrusts into him, these are his moans as Merlin pleasures him with his mouth, these are his moans as Merlin rides his lap. 

There’s a part of Merlin’s mind, that even while he’s racing towards his stealthy orgasm is cynically and frustratingly realistic, chiding him for entertaining this fantasy, a fantasy that will never become reality. Merlin will give his life to Arthur, he will protect him, he will guide him, he will love him with all the desperation and tenderness of his wounded heart, but he will never reap the benefit of his devotion. His love will always be solitary and unreturned, a precious, hurtful thing he keeps close to his heart, a secret that should never be revealed. 

Above him, Arthur is panting harshly now, gasping out one desperate breath after another, his movement almost frantic. Merlin listens and bites his lip, jerking himself as silently as possible, his heels digging into the floor as his body bows. 

“Fuck, fuck…” Arthur whimpers, low and desperate. He sounds close, so close, and when he cries out next, his voice breaks as he shakes, his movement making the bed frame tremble, “Merlin, … oh Gods, Merlin.” 

Hissing in shock at hearing his name, Merlin convulses, biting down hard on his palm as he spills over his hand, trying desperately to stay silent. With wide eyes, he listens to Arthur’s out of sync breaths, wondering if he heard correctly. 

But yes. Yes. There was his name falling from Arthur’s lips when he came. Twice. 

Shuddering, Merlin wipes his come-stained hand on the inside of his tunic, breathing flatly through his nose, his heart beating a mile a minute.

Maybe not so unrequited after all, he thinks, mind reeling.


End file.
